


Retribution

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo Amnesty Fills [14]
Category: Far Cry 5, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Dark, Drama, Gen, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Strong Language, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: John does not take kindly to having his mind hijacked.





	Retribution

“You know, there were better ways to cry out for help.”  
  
John plucked the screwdriver from his toolbox and held it up, scrutinizing the metal for any rust (or blood) stains.  
  
“Because hijacking my mind and forcing me to steal from my own family leads me to think you _want_ to die.”  
  
John turned and smiled widely at the man in the chair.  
  
He was unassuming- taller than John, shorter than Jacob, with brown hair and eyes and clothes that were just a little out of place in most places: The coat was just a bit too long; the style was just a bit too old. John didn’t know his name just yet, but he would soon. Nobody who ended up in his chair kept their secrets for very long.  
  
John stepped forward, lightly slapping the shank of the screwdriver against his palm. “But don’t worry,” He assured the man, who seemed more confused than alarmed, like he couldn’t guess what John had planned. Or that he assumed John couldn’t hurt him; Joseph had warned him that this man and his people could be awfully arrogant when it came to those outside of their community. “Joseph doesn’t want you dead. He just wants you to talk.”  
  
The man cleared his throat. “I don’t intend to tell you anything, and I strongly doubt you’ll be able to force me.”  
  
John let out a short burst of a laugh, eyebrows popping up. “Well gee, _that’s_ not something I’ve heard a thousand times before.”  
  
He was still laughing when he rammed the screwdriver into the man’s leg.  
  
It had been such a normal day, and it chewed at John like a rabid, hungry dog that he couldn’t recall exactly when this bastard had gotten a hold on him. All of a sudden it had occurred to him that he really, _really_ needed to go find a container of Bliss and bring it to the outskirts of Hope County for… Reasons. He hadn’t known why, of course- no point in explaining his plans to the screwdriver he was currently using on someone’s thigh, right?- but it had made perfect sense to him in the moment.  
  
And it was fortunate that Faith had been arriving with a new shipment, sitting on the flatbed of the truck and swinging her legs back and forth as her Angels unloaded the barrels. “Hello John,” She’d cooed, looking serene… And then suddenly, she wasn’t serene anymore: She’d seen something on John’s face, in his eyes, that had been out of place. She’d grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, trying to get him to answer her straight-forwardly about why he needed that barrel of Bliss.  
  
The next thing John remembered was waking up on the main compound, head aching badly.  
  
When Joseph and Faith had explained what had happened, that they had the culprit in custody, John had been rabid. “I want him,” He hissed, angry at having been used and fearful that Joseph would think he was weak for not being able to resist. “Please let me have him.”  
  
Joseph had been hesitant. “You are angry,” He’d warned. “I don’t want to tempt your Wrath, John. And I don’t want this man killed- at least not until we understand what it is he was doing.”  
  
So John had leashed the beast inside of him, taken several deep breaths, and tried to project an image of control. “I won’t kill him, Joseph,” He’d said, almost as sweetly as Faith. “I’ll only do what I can to make him talk.”  
  
Joseph gave his consent.  
  
And oh, but the man didn’t just talk- he _sang._  
  
His name was Aloysius Putnam.  
  
He was thirty-nine.  
  
And he was a wizard.  
  
“Oh, I already knew _that_ ,” John drawled, removing the wire-cutters from Putnam’s bloody, gored finger and lazily pacing back towards his work-table. He lifted up Putnam’s wand, which one of the Angels had disarmed him of when Faith had realized what was happening. “This is what you used on me, mm?”  
  
John dropped the wand to the floor, and locked eyes with Putnam as he stomped on it, crushing it to unusable pieces.  
  
“Why did you want the Bliss?” He asked afterwards, but Putnam didn’t speak.  
  
Alright then: Back to Ol’ Reliable.  
  
“You know,” John sighed, picking up the screwdriver and flipping it casually in his hand, catching it by the hilt every time, “Wizards have so many impressive tools and spells at their disposal. The Cruciatus Curse, though…” He gave a little laugh. “It’s just so _lazy_. There is so much more to pain than just the physical: The psychological pain that can be inflicted has so much _potential_.” He gave Putnam a thin smile. “But wizards aren’t especially psychological creatures, are you?”  
  
Putnam did not respond. But his eyes filled with fear as John approached, understanding very well now not simply what it was intended for, but that John _was_ capable of hurting him.  
  
“No, you’re not,” John answered himself, gesturing with the screwdriver as he spoke. “Not very smart, either, thinking that you could walk into my _home_ , control my _mind,_ and _steal from me._ ” He jabbed the screwdriver at Putnam with every emphasized word, and the man flinched every time. “But that’s not shocking considering what my brother Joseph’s told me about you, oh yes- not about _you_ , specifically, but about your people. About what you think of non-wizards.” He giggled helplessly. “You talk about us like we’re funny monkeys that barely survive without magic. That’s _fucking_ hilarious.”  
  
He rammed the screwdriver into Putnam’s left shoulder, into that soft dip between the arm and the chest where the bones connected. Putnam howled with pain, thrashing in the chair, and John wrenched the screwdriver out with a good deal of effort. His Wrath _was_ being tempted; the memory of how easily he’d followed Putnam’s commands, how easily he’d been manipulated by a wizard, disturbed and terrified him.  
  
“But I think you know better now.”  
  
He still wouldn’t kill, not yet.  
  
Because Joseph wanted Putnam alive for now.  
  
“I’ll repeat: _Why_ did you want the Bliss?” Silence. John locked eyes with Putnam. “If I have to ask again, I’m going to start ripping your nails out. And if I get really desperate, I’ll start pulling teeth.” It would make talking harder, but that was Putnam’s problem, not John’s.  
  
“MACUSA,” Putnam blurted out, eyes rolling shut with defeat. “MACUSA. I work for MACUSA.”  
  
John cocked his head. The name was familiar; Joseph had had several run-ins with the magical world over the years, and he’d related much of the information to his siblings. “The wizard government in America?”  
  
“Yes,” Putnam gasped.  
  
“But I didn’t ask where you worked,” John warned. “I asked-”  
  
“I was getting it for them. The President- she has intel about your group. About the Bliss. She wanted it.”  
  
“For what purpose?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“ _Speculate._ ”  
  
Putnam looked uncomfortable. “It could be useful against our enemies.”  
  
“Of course it could.”  
  
This time John gave in and punched Putnam across the jaw, just for spite's sake. He wasn’t nearly as physically strong as Jacob, but he could do damage when he wanted to; and he didn’t need Putnam to talk anymore. He had what he needed. John knelt down leaning in close to Putnam.  
  
“I suggest that you take this time to square yourself away with God, or Merlin, or… Whatever the _fuck_ it is you pray to,” John whispered. “Because if I come back with anything _other_ than an explicit order to leave you alive, these will be the last moments you have before you meet them.”  
  
Putnam trembled. “Please don’t kill me.”  
  
John’s smile was cold and toothy. “Maybe you should have considered that as a consequence before you decided to _fuck_ with me.”  
  
He left the room, bolting the door.  
  
“Every soul is capable of redemption, John.”  
  
Unfortunate.  
  
“I can’t allow you to kill him.”  
  
Even worse.  
  
“I want you to hear his confession, and see him brought into our family.”  
  
John’s eyes widened.  
  
Joseph looked at him pointedly.  
  
“I know you’re up to the task of cleansing his soul.”  
  
Not being allowed to end Putnam was disappointing.  
  
But this certainly had potential.  
  
John could prove himself to Joseph; it was simply a fluke that he’d be controlled by Putnam so easily. He was not weak, mentally or spiritually.  
  
John was strong, and he would make sure Joseph saw it.  
  
“Of course, Joseph. I won’t disappoint you.”  
  
“I know you won’t.”  
  
-End


End file.
